


Creator vs Creation

by Storm337



Series: 2019 Tumblr Drabbles [64]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Implied Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24161047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm337/pseuds/Storm337
Summary: “I own you” with Mark to AuthorRequested on Tumblr by Rubbersoles19
Series: 2019 Tumblr Drabbles [64]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587562
Kudos: 6





	Creator vs Creation

No matter how fast the Author writes, Mark doesn’t stop. He scribbles furiously, pressing so hard with his pen that he finally rips through the paper, gouging the wooden desk. The ink blots, stains like fresh blood seeping into the cracks of the table like they seeped into the Author’s fingertips. Despite all that, Mark still doesn’t stop. Abandoning his pen, the Author stumbles back, using the desk between them to give him time to reach for his bat. His hands find empty air, and he chances a glance behind him, where he’d last left it leaning against the wall. The bat is gone. He hears it thunk against the meat of Mark’s palm. Trapped, the Author can only watch as Mark flips the table out of the way with reckless abandon. The old table breaks apart, stale mugs and dried ink pots shattering to the ground. He closes the distance between them with steady seething rage, gripping the bat with both hands and holding it in front of him like it’s a sword, ready to drive it through the Author’s chest, pin him to the wall like an insect to watch him writhe. 

Sweat dripping down his forehead and soaking the back of his shirt, the Author raises his hands in surrender, but still smiles. It’s shaky, a fragile mask of confidence that Mark can see right through. So flimsy, so pathetic. 

“I don’t know how you did it,” the Author begins, stalling for time, but he has no plan, “but that’s impressive.” 

No one is coming for him. No one is going to help him. He has no allies, only enemies. This is impossible. This is crazy. The Author can’t believe what he’s just seen. He doesn’t know what to do. This wasn’t in the books. This wasn’t in his writing. 

“It’s simple,” Mark says, winding the bat back. “I own you.” 

And then Mark swings, and all the Author can do is throw his arms up and wonder.


End file.
